


Moment

by sorcerysupremes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Jasper Jordan/Maya Vie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9495644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcerysupremes/pseuds/sorcerysupremes
Summary: In the moments following their arrival to Camp Jaha, Monty is forced to deal with his demons, his guilt, and — worst of all — Jasper...[Set after the events of "Blood Must Have Blood: Part 2"]





	

When they arrive for the first time at Camp Jaha, it should be a reunion, a celebration. And there are a million and six things Monty ought to do now that they’re home. He should see who else made it down from the Ark— his mom, maybe. If nothing else, he should take a deep breath and for a moment revel in the fact that he helped get everyone out of Mount Weather.

Except, he can't — because he _didn't_ get everyone out.

As Monty pushes through the crowds of people, he searches for Jasper. There's no time for celebration or revelry with such bad blood — Maya's blood — between them. And when her name comes to mind, Monty remembers her rotting skin and cringes.

He may not have pulled the lever, but it was his code that did it.

Monty tries to convince himself that it was a necessary sacrifice, that they'd never have been able to escape if all of the security guards were still there and alive and able to fight. He tries to convince himself because if he can't even believe it, then how can he ever expect Jasper to? But this logic won't work on Jasper, he knows; rationality won't matter. Not when the sacrifice was Maya. The sacrifice was Jasper too — or at least the part of him that died when Maya did.

Monty dreads the inevitable conversation, only worsened by Jasper's devastated silence and its clash against everyone else's happiness. It plays out in his head.

' _She was our friend_ ,' Jasper will say.

And he's right.

' _She did everything she could to help us_.'

Right again.

' _And you_ killed _her_.'

Monty knows that this is true, technically, but for a moment he turns to cowardice. He wants to shift blame to Bellamy or Clarke, to claim that they were all out of other options, to pretend, perhaps, that for just a moment he was ignorant of the consequence, too naive to realize that it would take Maya too...

By the time he spots Jasper, Monty is swept away by the crowd — people shake his hands and congratulate him and call him a hero, and he just hopes that Jasper is too far away to hear.

But, of course, he hears everything.

>>>

Later that night, once everything calms down and life resumes as normal (or as normal as it will ever be), Monty goes looking for Jasper again.

The camp is dark and cold and quiet, and for a moment Monty misses the dropship and its relatively predictable comfort. In such close quarters, no one could be missing. Unlike Alpha station, which somehow feels even bigger on the ground than it was in the sky.

In the distance, Monty hears a noise and follows it down twisting, convoluted paths and hallways until he stumbles upon a barely-closed door to what was once a supply closet. He hesitates in front of it, feeling for a moment like an intruder in his own home, but he pushes the door open anyway.

Inside, Jasper sits on the floor, his back pressed against cold metallic walls as he sobs into a half-empty bottle of moonshine. When he hears someone approach, he wipes his eyes dry until they are raw from the salt of his tears.

"Hey," Monty says, and the word floats in the air between them for a moment before it crashes to the floor. Jasper looks at him but doesn't say anything.

Monty can see Jasper's face more clearly in the light of grayish bulbs, reflecting off the walls. Jasper looks back at him through empty, bloodshot eyes buried beneath knotted eyebrows. Monty can make out the distinct path of each tear that traveled down Jasper's face.

"I'm sorry," Monty says.

He knows that it won't help — how could it? why should it? — but he tries anyway. And he tries not to look at Jasper like he's broken, even though he clearly is.

"What?"

Jasper's voice comes as a surprise to both of them, cracks like a whip in the space between. He is hurt, and although Monty would rather pretend he doesn't notice, it is impossible not to.

Monty waits for Jasper to speak again but he doesn't; he just leans forward in a swift, heavy exhale, curling and hunching and contorting his figure. The silence that follows erupts between them like a stormcloud brewing in the sky, so turbulent you can feel it, so thick you can almost taste it.

"Are you okay?" Monty asks.

It's a stupid question — he realizes it immediately — but it leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

Jasper scoffs, gulps down another swig of moonshine and thrusts his body back hard against the wall. From the look of it, it seems to hurt more than he expects but less than he'd like.

So Monty repeats: "I'm sorry."

Jasper’s brow furrows and he moves to speak, but Monty intercepts.

“I know that doesn’t help,” he says. “But it’s true.”

It takes a moment, but Jasper’s face softens ever-so slightly. He glances down at the space next to him on the floor and clutches the bottle tighter in his hand as his knuckles go white around it.

Monty doesn’t expect forgiveness to come this quickly, but he’s known Jasper long enough to realize this is how it starts — a slow and painful process peppered with moments of normalcy, of pleasantness, even. It’ll take time, he knows.

When Monty sits, he doesn’t feel that hesitant anymore, like the weight has been lifted from his shoulders, left in Mount Weather where it damn well belongs. And just his presence seems to calm Jasper a bit too. Jasper lets out a quick gasping sob before he composes himself again. The skin around his eyes is chapped and red.

They sit in silence together, the empty air saying more than Monty can muster. But it seems like Jasper appreciates the silence. His muscles relax; Monty can see the strain less stressed in Jasper’s neck and arms. And Jasper’s muscles relax on the moonshine, too, as he hands it to Monty.

For Monty, for a moment, sitting on the floor next to Jasper, passing the bottle of moonshine between them, growing drunker and stupider with each swig, it almost feels like everything is back to normal...

And even if it's just for now, he'll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble idea about Monty dealing with his role in Maya's death got away from me and became a 1k+ look at grief, friendship, and forgiveness. I love these two.


End file.
